


Paper stars to paint your sky

by Shiirakis



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Artist! Tsukki and Photographer! Kageyama, M/M, wrote this for the hq writer zine!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-02 23:13:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12736251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiirakis/pseuds/Shiirakis
Summary: It's a picturesque encounter, a picture Kageyama could not help but burn into his lens. One that intertwines their lives with each brushstroke, a new layer over another with every moment together till the end.





	Paper stars to paint your sky

**Author's Note:**

> This was done for the HQ writer zine a while back in February and it has accompanying art by @faittruo on tumblr! Kagetsukki is one of my favourite ships so I'm really excited that I could write this! Find me on tumblr @tokinya if you'd like ;3

He has a pocketful of stars, carefully tucked away for the moment when he can decorate the vast expanse of the night sky. After all, the moon deserves to be bestowed a veil of stars to be illuminated by its side.

Kageyama’s first encounter with Tsukishima is at a stairwell.

He knows he shouldn’t be quite as enamoured with the sight of someone crying but there’s something in the way the evening glow spills down the steps, the only obstruction being the still figure curled up at the bottom that creates the harsh shadows that stretches to Kageyama’s feet. He resists the temptation to take a photograph of course, he knows better than that.

The muffled sobbing continues even as he approaches, and he can’t seem to stop the words that tumble past his lips. “Are you crying?”

He watches as shoulders flinch ever so subtly from the realisation of having company but the stranger keeps his head low, face hidden behind paint-stained hands. “Of course not, it’s obviously because my tear ducts are broken.” There’s a tinge of tired exasperation laced in his words. His voice sharply reverberates through the empty stairwell though it sounds less menacing than the stranger probably intended it to be, accompanied by the occasional sniffle.

Comforting others has never been a strong point of Kageyama’s. If anything, he usually ends up making it worse so he settles down beside the stranger in complete silence, providing a steady presence.

“Why the hell are you still here? Is this some kind of creepy hobby of yours? Sitting with people who cry?”

“So you were crying then. And no, I’m not that weird.” Kageyama finally catches a glimpse of the stranger’s visage when he lifts his head, face red and blotchy, golden hues still glassy with tears.

“Did you actually think— oh.”  The stranger rolls his eyes when he catches the slight quirk in the corner Kageyama’s lips. “Hilarious.”

Kageyama shrugs and hands him a handkerchief, only to be met with confusion. “Just take it, it’s not a big deal or anything. You don’t have to return it either. I’m Kageyama Tobio, a photographer.”

“… Tsukishima Kei. Is this supposed to be some weird pick-up method?” Tsukishima finally cracks a smile, or rather one that resembled more closely to a smirk, accompanied by a roll of his eyes which Kageyama will eventually learn is a trademark of his.

“No, but is it working?”

“You’ll have to do better than that.” Tsukishima blows his nose into Kageyama’s handkerchief, shakily sighing as he folds and pockets it. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Maybe. But it looked like you needed some company. The exhibition out front, are your works there?”

Tsukishima fidgets with the laces of his shoes. There’s splashes of blue and grey staining his once white sneakers and he finds that he prefers it this way. He lets the silence drag on but he finds it oddly reassuring, nothing like the awkward tension he feels when he’s around people. “Some are. Are they good?”

“Probably.”

“Probably?”

“It’s not like I could have known which ones were yours but those that I saw were really nice.”

Tsukishima lets out something akin to a laugh and he concedes. “Fair enough. So why are you here? This isn’t really a route the general public usually pass by.”

Kageyama raises the DSLR camera looped round his neck. He’s had it for years, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything else in the world. “I just like wandering around taking pictures. Sometimes it gives me inspiration.”

In a sense it’s the same for him, Tsukishima thinks. He rarely ever has a clear idea of what he wants until he’s made a mess of the canvas. “Well, I should get back to the exhibition before they start whining. I’ll see you around I guess. Thanks for… Whatever. Handkerchief, company. Something.”

Kageyama nods, his gaze following Tsukishima as he stretches and returns to the exhibition hall. He doubts they’ll meet again. The camera sits snugly in his hands and he positions himself where he stood before, where he was first captivated by the scene. Kageyama brings up the camera and takes a photo. The shot is just as how he imagined it and it’s technically beautiful.

But it’s not the same.

-

Kageyama’s second encounter with Tsukishima is surprisingly unexpected.

His decision to take a hike up a hill near his apartment in the middle of the night is mostly fuelled by unhealthy amounts of energy drinks and he tries not to regret it, despite the mosquitoes making it temptingly so. The familiar path he takes is steep but it’s the quickest way up and the fresh air that sweeps past him once he reaches the peak is refreshing. Usually at this hour, he’d be alone but this time, there’s someone perched on the railings. “Hey that’s dangerous…” It almost seems too good to be true when he recognises the familiar shade of blond and a canvas that’s leaning against the railings. “Tsukishima?”

His call elicits a response and Tsukishima turns with a look of surprise that mirrors Kageyama’s. “What a… Coincidence. What brings you here?”

“Had a project to finish and too much caffeine. You?” Kageyama heads over to the stone bench to sit, carefully pushing aside the tubes of paint and well-used brushes to make space.

“Can’t sleep.” Tsukishima stares out into the horizon of their town, having already watched half the day go by in that very spot. The one canvas that he brought up with him has already had several coats of paint over it, each layer a completely different painting he envisioned and the surviving layer is nothing but streaks of the night sky, bare and dull save for the faint speckles of the street lights beneath and the moon above. “This hill’s pretty high up, isn’t it?”

Kageyama doesn’t know if it’s the burst of adrenaline from the remaining caffeine but he finds himself leaping off his seat to grab Tsukishima by the arm, yanking him back and off the railing till they both end up on the ground.

“What the hell was that for?!”

“… Sorry. I thought you were going to… Jump,” Kageyama reasons. He helps Tsukishima up and dusts him off.

Tsukishima takes the chance to start packing up, smacking away the hand that tries to reach over to help. “Don’t mess up my things. And I have better things to do than jump, idiot.” Once again, the silence between them is hardly distressing and he appreciates it.

“It’s too late to catch the train or a bus, do you want to stay over for the night?”

It’s not till that moment Tsukishima’s exhaustion settles in and he gratefully accepts the offer. “I’d like that.”

-

“This photo. It’s where we met, wasn’t it?” It’s right in the centre of an entire wall of photographs, oddly prominent in the myriad of colourful photos.

Kageyama nods as he prepares a futon and they say nothing more.

-

“Wait, you forgot your painting.”

Tsukishima’s preparing to leave after a hearty breakfast prepared by Kageyama and he gives a fleeting glance at the lone canvas by the couch. “Burn it, throw it away, do whatever you want with it.”

Kageyama doesn’t question his decision and opts to keep it instead.

-

Kageyama’s subsequent meetings with Tsukishima becomes a staple.

His phone rings with a familiar tune that he associates with Tsukishima and he wastes no time in answering it. They’ve been meeting up far more frequently than he would ever expect, whether it’s for a meal or just to sit around together at home working on their next project. It’s an indescribable feeling that leaves Kageyama blissfully contented.

He notices the way Tsukishima picks at the dried paint on his hands when he’s nervous, how he always wears white when he paints because he likes the colourful mess it creates.

He’s aware of the strangely calming effect he has on Tsukishima, that he’s the first one Tsukishima calls in a time of need.

He mulls over it for weeks until he makes a startling realisation that he’s in love, to which Hinata bowls over, laughing so hard till he’s breathless. “I can’t believe you only just realised that! Truly Bakageyama!”

It takes him another week to prepare and he’s sprinting down the street to where the local exhibition hall is. Tsukishima isn’t anywhere to be found in the crowd but that is to be expected.

He heads to the stairwell where he first met Tsukishima and the scene is exactly like before, the only difference is that Tsukishima’s smiling, gaze fixated on him. This is where it begun and certainly not where it will end.

“You’re late.”

Kageyama has a pocket full of folded paper stars, tucked away for this exact moment where he scoops them in his hands and showers them over Tsukishima like falling stars. “Please go out with me.”

Tsukishima’s stunned by the display but he’s quick to collect himself, chuckling as he brings himself to his feet to take Kageyama’s hand in his, leaning over to gently kiss him. “That was really cheesy. And weren’t we already?”

“Guess I shouldn’t have gone through all this trouble then.” Kageyama smiles. He already knows what to do with them.

“Hm, perhaps. What should we do with these then?”

“Well… There’s that painting you left behind.”

-

Kageyama had a pocketful of stars, now scattered across the dark expanse of the night sky, bestowed upon the moon to be illuminated by its side; framed and hung as a memento in their bedroom.

 

_fin._


End file.
